


Indefinitely

by WhisperOfWarmth



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Gay, Gay Male Character, Getting to Know Each Other, I Ship It, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Kylux - Freeform, Love, M/M, One True Pairing, Quarantine, Roommates, Short & Sweet, Star Wars - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:21:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23280070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhisperOfWarmth/pseuds/WhisperOfWarmth
Summary: Armitage Hux and his roommate, Ben Solo, get along with each other fairly well, despite each other’s odd (and sometimes annoying) quirks. But what happens when, due to a global crisis, the two are forced to spend copious amounts of time with each other ... and ONLY with each other?
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Ben Solo
Comments: 14
Kudos: 64





	Indefinitely

“I’m so bored.”

Hux looked up from his book, his left eye twitching slightly with irritation, as he replied, “I’m aware of that. You’ve only been saying it every five seconds for the past two weeks. Give it a rest, would you?”

“How about YOU give that smarmy attitude a rest, Armitage?”

“Smarmy? Who taught you that word?”

“I’m not an idiot. I know words.”

“What’s smarmy mean then?”

“A bastard who thinks he knows everything. That’s smarmy. That’s _you_ ,” Ben replied, as he walked into the kitchen and grabbed the box of Trix from the cabinet. He came back in with it, as well as the carton of milk, a bowl, and a spoon, which he laid down on the table.

“Jesus Christ, are you eating _again_??”, Hux asked, shaking his head. “Our next grocery run isn’t for five more days; if you keep this up we’ll be out of food and starving before then!”

Ben poured the milk into the bowl first (a practice Hux found absolutely intolerable), then the cereal. “Relax, man. It’s just a bowl of cereal. And **I** bought this one, so —“

“Whatever happened to share and share alike? I never hoard any of the things that _I_ buy from YOU. What if I get up later to have a bowl and it’s gone? Then what?”

Ben picked up the box, held it towards Hux and shook it loudly. “Again, RELAX. There’s plenty left. And for your information, it’s my responsibility to eat.”

“Oh? How do you figure?”

“If I stop eating, I start losing weight. You lose weight you lose muscle mass. And when all this is over, and I can start training face to face again — do you want people to think I’m sick or something? Come on, man; be more considerate,” Ben said, as he lifted the box and poured another trickle of cereal into the bowl.

Hux just sighed, going back to his book. This, was awful. And it just kept getting worse all the time.

When the world first heard of the FLU, nobody thought much of it. It sounded like just another illness, and for the most part it was being restricted to one area of the world.

And then, it spread.

It spread so far and so _quickly_ that world health officials didn’t have the time (or the resources) to properly handle it. Hundreds were dying in all corners of the globe, and more people becoming infected by the day, it seemed.

Pretty soon, in individual countries and states, restrictions started being handed down, in an effort to stop the spread of this illness. 90% of travel, be it by car, boat, plane, etc, was banned. Stores and businesses deemed to be “non-essential” were closed indefinitely. People were told to stay home from their jobs. Schools closed. All professional sports teams and leagues indefinitely postponed their seasons. And the few places that were left open, such as grocery stores, had strict limits on how much you could buy of certain items, as well as WHEN the stores would be open for business. In Ben and Hux’s city, their local grocery store was only open for 6 hours on Fridays.

But the worst thing of all was the “ban” on what felt like life (and living) itself. Everyone was quarantined at home, and strongly discouraged from leaving for anything that wasn’t absolutely necessary. There was no more eating in restaurants, no more meeting friends for drinks at bars, no more going to the gym (which hurt Ben in particular, as his job was as a personal fitness trainer. He was still able to hold video sessions with his clients a few days a week, but often complained how it “just wasn’t the same”). His roommate Hux was a bit better suited to these changes, however; Hux had always been a bit of an introvert, and his communications job had always been done primarily from home anyway, through emails and phone calls and video conferences.

But being holed up indefinitely with Ben was starting to wear on his nerves.

He wasn’t even sure why he had agreed to be roommates with the loud, somewhat temperamental man in the first place. He supposed it was primarily because he knew Ben from high school, and had decided that, so long as he couldn’t yet afford to live on his own, he may as well be with someone who wasn’t a complete stranger.

But then again ...

Maybe a “complete stranger” wouldn’t spend half the night clinking weights and grunting louder than seemed necessary in his room.

Maybe a “complete stranger” wouldn’t go through what limited food they had (that they needed to be sensibly rationing) like wildfire.

Maybe a “complete stranger” wouldn’t take 500 showers a day, using a different towel every time, then leave the bathroom looking like a low-grade flood had coursed through it. Then balk when his red headed roommate politely suggested that HE be the one to go down to the basement laundry room and wash towels for a change.

And maybe, just maybe, a “complete stranger” wouldn’t keep saying, like clockwork, every five fucking seconds,

“I’m so bored.”

Hux calmly closed his book and put it on the table, before standing up. “I’ve got some work files I need to catch up on in my room. I’ll see you at dinner, okay?”, he said, before walking down the hall.

“What’s for dinner?”

“Your turn to cook, isn’t it? Surprise me,” Hux said, before shutting his door.

— —

“You know what the worst part of all this is?”

Hux looked up. It was several days later, early evening, and Ben and Hux were once again sitting in the living room. Hux had his laptop in front of him, finishing up some emails. Ben had just spent the last couple of hours in his room doing his video call training sessions, and now he was sitting on the opposite end of the couch slightly sweaty and disheveled. Hux wanted to suggest he go shower, but at the same time knew they were low on towels; and he didn’t fancy running down to do laundry anytime soon.

“What?”

“Not getting laid. I miss my girlfriend.”

“Huh? You mean that short girl with the brown hair?”

“Yeah.”

“She’s not your girlfriend.”

“Yeah she is.”

“How? You brought her over here exactly 2 times, she stayed less than an hour each time. You don’t call her, you don’t go see her —“

“Of course I can’t go SEE her, idiot. I can’t go SEE _anyone_! If I could, do you think I’d be sitting here staring at _your_ annoying face every day?”

“I’m talking about even before all of this lockdown shit. You never went to see her then, either.”

“And how do you know we don’t talk? Are you monitoring my phone calls, now?”

“Oh just give it up Ben. That girl isn’t your girlfriend. She barely even let you hug her.”

“She’s just shy, man. Being shy isn’t a crime.”

Hux sighed. “Whatever, Ben. Be delusional if you want; it’s none of my concern anyway. What do you want for dinner? Chicken? Fish?”

“I’m getting sick of cooked things. Can’t we just order out?”

Hux frowned at that. While several restaurants in their area now offered take-out and delivery to combat the no inside dining rule, Hux wasn’t particularly fond of this concept. He knew that many of the people in these industries were working now because they desperately needed the money, and many, many of them chose to do so even while not in 100% good health. He knew it was a long shot to actually catch this illness from a delivery order ... but still. It made him really uneasy all the same.

“Ah ... you go ahead and order for yourself if you want, Ben. I’ll just make a sandwich or something.”

Ben rolled his eyes and went into the kitchen, to grab their stack of delivery menus from the drawer. “I know what your worry-wort ass is thinking, Armitage, but come on. You’re not going to catch anything.”

“You don’t know that,” Hux said, as Ben carried the menus in and sat down beside him.

“You know what I DO know? Virus or not, I can’t live like this much longer. It’s bad enough everyone is trapped in their houses like zoo animals. If delivery food is still available, then I’m gonna indulge in that, fuck the consequences.”

“Have fun with that.”

“YOU have fun with it, too. Come on, man. How about ... an extra large mushroom sausage and green pepper pizza from Giordano’s?”

Despite himself, Hux could feel his mouth start to water. He hadn’t had Giordano’s in what felt like ages ... and mushrooms, sausage and green peppers were his absolute favorite toppings. And Ben knew it, too.

“Sounds good, doesn’t it?”, Ben asked with a sly grin, seeing Hux’s reaction. “We can get that, maybe some of those Parmesan-garlic breadsticks you love .... and hey, it’ll all be on me. What do you say?”

“Well —“

Ben picked up his cell and began calling the number on the menu. “I knew you’d see it my way, Huxtable.”

—

“Is it just me or is this pizza making you have orgasms, too?”

Hux grinned and reached for another slice. “Don’t know if I’d take it THAT far, weirdo. But okay, this WAS one of your better ideas. Kudos.”

Ben smirked and took a little bow. “Thank you, thank you. I’m a man of many talents.”

“Is one of those talents getting me another beer?”

Ben stood up and went into the kitchen, bringing Hux an icy-cold brew and setting it on the table. “Luckily for you, it is.”

The pizza had been better than expected. Ben had been cooperative with Hux’s request that they transfer the pizza immediately to a pizza pan they had under the cabinet (Hux’s reasoning being that the sooner they tossed the cardboard box down the garbage chute, the less time possible germs had to accumulate in the apartment). With the meal they had several beers apiece, Ben’s idea as well. Although Hux wasn’t really a fan of drinking, he found that the cold ale paired excellently with the gooey goodness of the pizza. 

Hux wasn’t aware of this, but the reason he was feeling so good wasn’t so much due to the food and booze itself, but more to the _feeling_ attached to it. It reminded Hux, on a subconscious level, of better times. Of being able to go out freely, to hang out with coworkers and friends and eat junk and have drinks. To laugh. To joke. To not have to worry about so many damn things.

Ben put some of it into words, when he said, softly, “This tastes like the bowling alley.”

“What?”

“Bowling alley. Me and my dad used to go every Tuesday night when I was a kid. We’d share a pizza and he’d have beers. This kinda reminds me of that.”

Hux quietly thought about that for a moment. Ben spoke quite often of his mother (whom he had lost several years ago), but this was the first time Hux could recall him ever even mentioning his father. And the two really hadn’t been close enough in their high school years to know these details about each other.

“Your dad ... is he, um —“

“Can’t really tell you much about him. Hell, I don’t even know if he’s still alive. He left me and my mom when I was 14.”

“Shit. I’m sorry to hear that.”

Ben just shrugged, and grabbed another slice of pizza. His mouth half-full, he elaborated, “It happens. Probably better that way ‘cuz him and mom used to fight a lot. Drank too much too. What me and you have just had to drink between us, would be about half of what he drank for breakfast.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Yeah.”

Another long spell of silence, and then Ben said, surprisingly soft, “Still, though ... sometimes I miss that stupid fucker.”

Now he looked at Hux and said, curiously, “You ever miss your old man?”

“No. Not in the least.”

“Really? What about your mom?”

“My mom died when I was 2. I don’t remember her at all. Can’t miss someone you don’t remember, right?”

“I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have asked that.”

Hux shrugged and took a long pull on his beer. “Don’t worry about it; it’s like you said, it happens, right?”

“Can I ask you something else, then?”

“If it’s about why I don’t miss my dad, it’s because I just don’t, okay? He was a dick, in every way you can imagine. He lives with his family in Ireland now; I haven’t spoken to him in like 10 years.”

“Wow. That’s a long time.”

Hux drained the rest of his beer before saying, somewhat angrily, “Not long enough. Waiting for the day my aunt calls and tells me he passed. Then I can go to his funeral, and finally be done with the whole thing.”

Bens eyes were wide, but he didn’t say anything. He couldn’t think of anything TO say. Normally Hux was so calm, so emotionless, that seeing him react so ... so passionately, to something, threw Ben for a bit of a loop.

Hux must have sensed how awkward these few moments had become, because he said, this time in a more cheerful-sounding voice, “Turn the channel, huh? I’ve seen this episode a million times already.”

—

Ben woke up with a start, looking around him warily. He glanced at the digital clock on his nightstand: 2:45am. He couldn’t remember getting into bed or falling asleep, and now he wasn’t exactly sure what had woken him up.

Had he had a bad dream?  
Did he hear a noise?

Deciding that it was probably the latter, Ben groggily got to his feet and put on his robe. He never told anyone this, but when he was a teen, right after his dad left, he and his mom fell on hard times. Leia Organa and her son had to move into a smaller apartment that was more affordable. Unfortunately, it was also in a not-so-great neighborhood. Ben had learned to constantly be on guard for pick-pockets, vandals, and robbers. So any time he heard some small noise in the middle of the night, he was put back in that mind frame, and knew that sleep would escape him until he got up and checked things out for himself.

He moved swiftly and quietly through the dim apartment, turning on lights as he went. As he made sure each room was “secure”, he pinged them off in his head

Bathroom: Check.  
Hall closet: Check.  
Kitchen: Check.  
Living room: Check.

Front door: locked.  
Windows: Closed and locked.

Satisfied, he went back to the kitchen, to make himself a sandwich to fall asleep on. He knew Hux didn’t like it when Ben did “unnecessary eating”, but Ben figured that what Hux didn’t know wouldn’t kill him.

“Probably won’t like me opening the new bag of chips, either,” he muttered to himself, as he quietly pulled open the top on a bag of Doritos.

His plate in hand, he walked back to his room, switching the lights back off along the way. Before he got to his room, he paused outside Hux’s door.

Quiet, as usual.

Ben thought about that as he finally made it into his own room, using his foot to shut the door behind him.

Hux was ALWAYS quiet.

Hux was patterned, and routined. Even working from home, Hux wasn’t one to spend the day lounging in his pajamas. He’d be up, showered, and dressed by 8 o’clock every single morning. Always dry toast for breakfast. Always set times for working, eating, doing laundry, even watching tv. 

And the nagging ...

_Ben, please don’t leave your wet towels on the floor, you’ll create mildew._

_Ben, you should really try and get more fruits and veggies into your diet. Aren’t you a fitness trainer?? Eating all that junk all the time can’t be healthy._

_Ben, you have to remember to empty the vacuum filter before AND after you vacuum. Otherwise everything clogs up and it’s impossible to clean._

The nagging, the uprightness, the sheer and utter _boring_ -ness of that guy. With his neatly combed red hair and vampire-pale skin and weirdly clean fingernails ... 

... but at the same time ...

Hux offered a strong sense of stability, of _security_ , that had been somewhat absent through Ben’s adolescent years. His practicality, his work ethic, his intelligence and the calm, thoughtful way he was almost all the time ...

... a lot of those qualities were what Ben would have desired in a father. Not that he saw Hux as a father-figure; not precisely. But being around Hux, living with him gave Ben a subtle (and NEEDED) feeling of inner peace, and well-being.

Even though Hux could be as dull as dishwater.

And even though, again, Hux could be a merciless nag about even arbitrary things, like putting one’s feet up on the coffee table, like leaving a few dirty towels on the bathroom floor ...

... or leaving a few dirty dishes sitting around rooms.  
Even if the room in question was Ben’s own.

“Fuck it,” Ben murmured, letting out a huge yawn. “I’ll just put my plate in the sink tomorrow.”

— —

“I don’t think this thing is ever going to end.”

Hux glanced at Ben, before turning his attention back to the news. Apparently this shelter-in-place quarantine was set to go on for at least another _month_ , something that neither man was thrilled to hear.

“You’ve got to be optimistic, you know?”, Hux commented, before switching the tv back off. 

“Optimistic, my ass. I’m going stir crazy, man!”

“Well tomorrow is grocery day. That’s something, right?”

“Not really. It’s not thrilling to go to that place with all the scared-looking people all trying to stay twenty feet away from each other while trying to snag the last pack of toilet paper.”

When Hux didn’t respond, Ben went on:

“You know what I really want to do? I want to go to the movies.”

“Why? We have like 10,000 movies here, between our own stuff and like, Netflix and other services.”

“It’s not the same, and you know it. I miss popcorn.”

“We’ve got a whole box of popcorn in the cabinet that you’ve never even opened!”

“Hux. It’s _not the same_. Like, the butter they put on. The candy in boxes behind the glass. The nachos. The big ass cup of soda.”

“Honestly it just sounds like you’re hungry.  
If you want any of that stuff, put it on the list for tomorrow. I guarantee it’ll be 90% cheaper than what they’d charge for it at the theater.”

Ben gave a loud groan and flopped back into the couch, using one of the little pillows to pull over his face.

“You’re still not getting it,” he mumbled, his voice slightly muffled by the pillow. “I miss the atmosphere. Getting all that food, taking a date, getting all cozy in the dark ...”

Hux sighed. “I’m afraid I can’t help you there, buddy. I mean I could order a blow-up doll for you if you want.”

“I’d prefer the real thing.”

“Again, can’t help you there. And just so you know, I’ll cut your throat if you dare bring some germ-ridden hooker into this apartment.”

Ben moved the pillow from his face and scowled. “First of all, I have more class than that. Second, when you look as good as I do, you don’t pay for it. Ever.”

Hux rolled his eyes. “You actually think that you look good?”

“Duh. Do you think I spent so much of my life working on my body to NOT look good?”

Hux just shook his head, and Ben went on, curiously, “What about YOU, Hux?”

“What do you mean?”

“Aren’t you jonesing for a little female companionship too?”

“Not particularly.”

“What about that chick who used to come over all the time? Um, the tall blonde, the one you said was your co-worker?”

“Phasma? What about her?”

“You guys used to go into your room and shut the door. You’d be in there for a while. I mean, she was REALLY pretty and —“

Hux stood up abruptly, so quick that he nearly knocked over his water glass, startling Ben.

“I have a little headache. I’m gonna go take a nap,” he said, and with that he had quickly marched to his room, closing the door behind him,

Ben stared after him for a long while.  
What the hell—?

Hux had acted quite unusually to Ben’s questions. Almost like he had been offended in some way. Or ... scared.

But what was there to be scared of?

“Maybe I touched a nerve,” Ben mumbled to himself, hardly aware that he was speaking out-loud. “He probably ended things with that girl before this quarantine happened, and he’s still kinda upset over it.”

Ben stretched out fully on the couch, grabbing the blanket from over the edge and stuffing one of the couch-pillows under his head. A nap sounded rather good right then.

— —

“All things considered, we did pretty good today,” Hux commented, as he opened up a cabinet and placed a box of pasta inside.

“If that’s true, why did you make such a big deal over my buying this?”, Ben asked, pointing to the 24-pack of beer that was sitting on the kitchen table.

“I didn’t make a big deal out of it; I just said you could have probably found better things to spend your money on. We still have some of the 12-pack left from last time in the fridge.”

“Hux ... first off, you can never have enough booze. Especially during a quarantine. Second, it was only $8.99. For a 24-pack! How could I have passed this up??”

Hux smiled a little and shook his head. “You’re impossible sometimes. Anyway, all this food ... what are we having for dinner?”

It was late Friday afternoon, and the two men had just come back from the grocery store. Normally they took turns each week so that only one of them went, and this week was Ben’s turn, but he’d insisted that Hux come with him.

“You need to get out of this apartment for five seconds,” Ben had told him, grabbing hold of his arm and dragging him towards the door. “It’s sunny today, and you need it. You’re starting to scare me with your ghost-skin.”

So Hux had sighed and obliged him. And he had to admit, it WAS nice getting out for a bit. The store wasn’t as crowded as it had been the last few times Hux had gone, which gave his anxiety a bit of a rest. And despite the fact that he spent most of the time arguing with Ben over what they did or didn’t need, it was actually rather ... fun.

“How about you make us some burgers and onion rings?”, Ben replied to his question now, stuffing a box of fruit snacks in the cabinet.

Hux smiled at that; he wasn’t exactly a fan of cooking, but some things were his specialty, and he was proud of them. Homemade burgers (with a mix of ground beef and “secret” spices) and hand-made onion rings, were two things he was fond of.

“Fine, but you have to chop the onions this time,” Hux said, bringing a large yellow onion and a cutting knife to the table. “And WASH YOUR HANDS first.”

Ben grinned and did as he was told. “Such sacrifices to make for some onion rings.”

Hux took a turn at the sink next, scrubbing his hands with soap and water, before meticulously drying them. “It concerns me that you consider basic hygiene practices a ‘sacrifice’, but okay.”

He emptied the package of ground beef in a bowl, while he began mixing up an egg, breadcrumbs, and an assortment of spices in a smaller bowl.

“You know what the funny thing is?”

“What?”, Ben asked. Already the onion-chopping was making his eyes tear up, and he used his sleeve to wipe them.

“My dad taught me how to make this stuff.”

“Really?”

“Mm hm. Probably the only useful thing he ever taught me. Said his dad used to make them like this, too. Of course, his dad used to put a handful of goat cheese into his, but I never liked that idea. Still, as it is, these are pretty good.”

It was quiet for a bit, with the only sounds being the careful _chuck chuck_ of the knife coming down on the cutting board, and the muted squish of Hux mixing and shaping hamburger patties. Ben broke the silence by saying,

“I don’t think my dad ever taught me to cook anything. But he couldn’t cook, either. When I was little, my mom had a night job, so dad would be with me at night. You know what he used to make for dinner?”

“What?”

“Canned spagettios, with little bits of hotdogs added that he’d cut up and fry in a frying pan first.”

“Ugh! Really?”

“Yeah. Actually not as bad as you’d think. At least, not to a seven year old boy, I guess.”

His rings done and separated, Ben gathered them up carefully and brought them to Hux at the counter, where he’d already prepared the dipping batter.

“You want a beer?”

“Now?”

“Yeah. Food tastes better if you make it when you’re a little tipsy. That’s what dad used to say.”

“Which is probably why you were eating spagettios with hotdogs in it,” Hux commented, making both men laugh.

Ben put the new pack into the bottom of the fridge, and brought Hux one of the already cold ones from the last pack. He cracked it open, as well as his own, and held his bottle out to Hux. “Come on. Cheers?”

Hux sighed and clinked his bottle with Ben’s. “Fine. Cheers.”

—

“Hux. Man. You have to tell me what you put in this! Is it crack? It’s crack, isn’t it?”, Ben slurred, taking another large chunk out of his burger. “I’m ready to die this is so good.”

Hux grinned and shook his head. “I think that’s the booze talking. Maybe you should cut back?”

“Cut back? Why? Not like I’m driving anywhere tonight. Not like I’m driving anywhere EVER,” Ben said, before taking another pull on his beer.

It was several hours later, and the two had managed to go through a record 4 burgers apiece (which was especially surprising for Hux, as he rarely ate so much) and a huge plate full of onion rings. They were in the living room, on the couch, watching some old movie, and drinking. Drinking a _lot_. Hux was mildly alarmed to find that he couldn’t precisely remember how many beers he’d had, personally. All he knew was that Ben seemed to bring him bottle after bottle, and Hux had accepted each one. The table was covered, in fact, with winking brown bottles.

“You know what, Hux?”, Ben asked now, tapping Hux’s shoulder. “You’d make somebody a really good husband some day. No seriously. You can cook like a monster. And clean. And all that shit.”

“You think so?”

“I know so, man. You’re the bomb.”

“The bomb? What is this, the 90’s?”

Ben didn’t answer. He was now laid back on the couch, his feet almost touching Hux’s legs, his eyes half-closed. Hux figured he was probably close to passing out, and the logical part of his brain kicked into gear.

First, Hux would pull the living room blanket over Ben and leave him on the couch. Then he would start cleaning their beer bottles and dirty dishes and leftover food from the table. Before Hux went into his own room to sleep, maybe he would put the small bathroom garbage can on the floor by Ben’s head, in case he woke up and had to puke.

Hux leaned over Ben with the blanket to carry out the first part of his plan, when ... something happened.

At first, Hux thought he had made a mistake.

Or had a hallucination.

There could be no other possible reason for it, no other way to think about it.

Because no matter how much they’d had to drink, how late it was, how close they were sitting next to each other ...

... there was no possible way, in heaven, hell, or the earth in-between, that Hux had just leaned over and kissed Ben.

No way whatsoever.

What was in this beer, anyway? Was it possibly spiked with hallucinogenics? Some mean-spirited person working at the brewery taking a few pills out of his pocket, tossing them into some random brews, sealing them, and sending them on their way to the store where Ben would see it, see that it was on sale, buy it, bring it home and share it with his roommate? His roommate who had now taken one of the spiked beers and was having an entirely impossible dream that he had just KISSED Ben?

Is that what was happening?

Yes. It must be.

Hux was about to laugh and tell Ben what he had just imagined, because he knew that Ben would get a good kick out of such an impossible, ridiculous thing, too.

He was about to ... but then Ben, whose eyes were suddenly WIDE open, was leaning over and kissing HIM.

And there could be no mistake that it was happening. No hallucination could feel this warm, this soft.

A pause, a long, loaded pause ... and then Hux was climbing over Ben, holding him down, gently devouring his long, taut neck with lips, teeth and tongue. There was a small sound in the room now, and Hux’s foggy brain couldn’t immediately place it for what it was: moaning. Ben was moaning, and the sound seemed to rise in volume the longer Hux kissed him.

“Wait ...” Hux murmured, pulling back, “Wait, we ... I ... we shouldn’t —“

But suddenly, Ben’s long, muscular legs were wrapped tightly around Hux’s waist, holding him in place. Things were happening so fast yet so _slow_ that the surrealness to it somewhat disorientated the redhead.

When had Hux’s shirt gotten on the floor?  
When had Ben’s belt buckle been loosened, his pants slid below his hips??

When —

Then Ben’s lips captured Hux’s with near-paralyzing sweetness, and the time for questions (and answers) had passed.

— —

Ben woke up the next day in confusion. The light streaming in through the windows was intolerable, and he groped around for the pillow, to put over his face.

What had happened, last night?  
Why was Ben sprawled on the couch like this?

Peeking out from under the pillow, something on the floor directly beneath him made his breath catch in his chest: his pants.

_What the fuck?? How are my pants on the ground??_

He risked sitting up further to investigate, and was taken aback by how many beer bottles and food plates were littering the table. Which was unusual in several ways, actually; the MOST unusual being the Hux never allowed dirty —

_Holy shit._

Ben’s heart stopped in his chest. Hux.  
HUX.

At the mention of Hux’s name in Ben’s mind, a flood of (fake? This couldn’t possibly be real, could it??) memories of last night came flooding in.

Had ... had they _kissed_?

 _You didn’t just kiss,_ a sober voice whispered into his thoughts. _Look at the floor again._

Ben looked, and his face turned bone-white. Under the coffee table was a small, square-shaped package, torn open and discarded. A ... a condom wrapper.

Ben was wide awake now, and hangover or not, he was in full panic mode.

“Oh my god oh my GOD did we have sex??”

He leapt up from the couch, quickly pulling on his pants, and scrambled to Hux’s room. The door was half open so Ben didn’t bother knocking. He burst inside ... only to discover the room empty.

“Hux?”, Ben called, searching through the apartment. “Armitage, where are you??”

But Hux wasn’t in the bathroom, or kitchen, or anywhere out in the hallway. Ben even checked the closets, and his own bedroom. Nothing.

Hands shaking, Ben picked up his phone and dialed Hux’s number.

No answer.  
And again.  
And again.

“Okay calm down, Ben,” he said aloud to himself, trying to slow his breathing. “It’s alright. Maybe this is all just a joke. A mistake. Hux is probably trying to scare you. He’s probably mad at this mess out here so he’s trying to —“

And then another flash of memory, and Ben’s legs lost power, sinking him helplessly back to the couch.

In his mind, he could SEE the two of them tumbling around the couch. Kissing. Taking off each other’s clothes. He could FEEL Hux wrapping his legs around him, he could FEEL himself —

“Oh my God, we had sex,” Ben said, much more softly this time. The revelation was shocking to him, and he couldn’t quite wrap his head around it.

He and Hux had had sex.

But where was Hux? Had they talked at all afterwards? Had Ben fallen asleep?

Ben stood up and began cleaning up the mess on the table. Whatever the case, they had to talk about this when Hux came back. And a mess in the living room wouldn’t help matters any.

When Ben was finished, he sat back down and sent Hux a text, asking where he was.

He waited and waited, but no answer.

“It’s okay. He’ll be back when he’s back. Just give him some time,” Ben told himself, forcing himself to turn on the tv and try to act normal.

The day passed by impossibly slowly, with Hux not returning and Ben wearing out his fingers calling or texting him, only to be met with no reply each time.

By 6 o’clock, Ben was really starting to worry. Still no returned texts or calls. 

Where the fuck could he BE? They were in the middle of a quarantine, for God’s sake. There wasn’t even anything open that Hux could go to. Was he sitting in some park somewhere?

Ben must have gotten up and pulled on his jacket fifty times, resolving to go out and find him. But each time, he sat back down, confused.

What should he DO?

Was Hux angry with him? Was he disgusted? If that was the case, Ben couldn’t blame him for not wanting to come back home. 

Deciding that he needed something concrete to do, to distract him, Ben decided to go down to the apartment building basement and do laundry.

He got all the way down the elevator and into the little hallway outside the door before he realized: he’d forgotten the clothes upstairs.

Cursing to himself, he started to turn back around, when something caught his eye: a flash of pale skin, laying on the armrest of a bright red chair. Ben stepped all the way into the little room, and was met with the sight of ...

“Hux?”

Hux nodded. His hands were folded together in his lap, his head hung down low.

“You fucking asshole. I’ve been trying to get a hold of you all day! Have you been down here this whole time?”

Hux nodded, still not looking up.

“Well — well come back upstairs, please. I want to talk to you.”

Hux just shook his head.

“Are you planning on sitting down here the whole night??”

Hux nodded.

Ben sighed, then sat himself down in the chair opposite Ben. “Well, then, so am I. Makes no difference to me WHERE we talk, but we have to talk, Armitage. We have to.”

Hux didn’t answer, and he still didn’t look up ... but at least he hadn’t gotten up and run away, like Ben feared he would.

The two sat in silence for a while. The low humming of the pipes, the faint sounds of people talking and moving in the apartments on the first floor, the soft tumble of the dryer all served as a soothing hum of background noise.

“I’m so sorry.”

Ben jumped a bit; Hux’s voice had broken the quiet, scaring him a tiny bit.

“W-what?”

Looking directly at him for the first time, Hux went on: “I’m sorry. Last night, I knew that you’ve been feeling lonely lately and that we’d had way too much to drink and I should have just backed off and went to my room. You’re my roommate, you’re a really good friend and drunk or not I should have used my fucking head and realized how badly this would jeopardize our friendship.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Yes?”

“Um ... what we did. That wasn’t your first time, was it? I mean, with ... with a guy. It didn’t seem like a new thing for you, at all.”

“You’re right; it wasn’t. I’m sorry about that, too. I should have told you the truth about me from the start, that ... that I’m into guys. I’m so sor—“

“If you say ‘I’m sorry’ one more time, I’m going to punch you in the face, Hux. So stop it already.”

Hux stopped, startled. At the same time he used his sleeve to wipe away the tears he could feel running from his eyes.

“I’ve been thinking all day about what to say to you, and how to say it. To make sure that I say everything I need to say, and that I say it RIGHT. So I need you to be quiet, and listen to me, without interrupting, until I’m done. Okay?”

“Okay,” Hux agreed, nodding. “I’m listening.”

“Okay, well, to begin: last night. I’ve never done anything like that with a man before, and I never even imagined that I would. And it was weird. It was weird and strange and awkward but you know what? It felt good. Actually better than good, it felt GREAT. And to be honest I’m not sure if the reason it felt great was because I haven’t done it, period, in a long time, and I was so frustrated that ANY kind of release would have felt amazing, or if it had to do specifically with you, or a combination of the two.”

Here he paused, taking a breath and gathering his thoughts, before continuing,

“But ... I think at least 90% of it had to do with YOU. How ... how close I feel to you. I may not seem like it, Hux, but I have always been the kind of person who believed that sex feels infinitely better when it’s with somebody that ... that you care about. You’re right, we are friends. Good friends. As a person, as a human, Hux, you have some really good merits. Like, you’re smart. You’re a hard worker. You’re honest. And you take care of me, whether you realize it or not. Like all those things you’re always telling me or reminding me to do. And you calm me down when I’m upset. You’re there when I need to talk. Things like that. And you can say that what happened between us was accidental, or because we were drunk, or whatever. But I don’t believe that. I don’t _feel_ that. Because, to me, it FEELS like something that’s kinda been building, for a long time, now.”

Here he did something that took a lot of courage; he reached over and gently took hold of each of Hux’s hands, and he held on through the rest of his speech.

“Please, PLEASE come back home with me, Hux. _Please_. Let me make you dinner. We can spend some time talking, tonight, and tomorrow, and indefinitely. REALLY getting to know each other. There’s a lot I don’t know about you, and there’s some things I’d like you to know about me. And maybe, at the end of everything, we find that we’re compatible enough to REALLY take this seriously and ... maybe ... be in a relationship?”

Hux didn’t answer, he didn’t even seem to blink or breathe. Ben’s heart dropped: had he said too much? Had he been stupid to reveal so much of his true feelings? Maybe Hux was horrified; maybe he had only looked at the situation as being a regrettable mistake, and hadn’t gone as far in his thinking of it as Ben had.

Ben dropped Hux’s hands and stood up hastily. 

“I’m sorry. That was stupid, wasn’t it? I’m just gonna go back home and leave you alone.”

He was halfway across the room before Hux called out behind him, very softly,

“Did you mean it?”

Ben turned around, tears going down his face. 

“W-what?”

Moving closer to him, Hux asked, again, “Did you MEAN it? Everything you just said? Were you being honest? Did that come from your heart?”

“Yes. Yes, it did. Every single word.”

A pause, and then Hux was right in front of him. He was smiling.

“Good.”, he said, and then he put both hands on Ben’s face and pulled him in for a kiss. It was soft, and tender, and filled with so much raw emotion that it was as if Hux was speaking his feelings rather than just kissing them.

When they parted, Ben’s heartbeat was thudding in his ears, his face was flushed ... but nothing on earth could have taken the smile from his face.

“Come on,” Hux said, holding out his hand. “I like your talking idea. Come and tell me something I don’t know about you while I make us dinner.”

Ben took Hux’s hand, and the two walked towards the elevators together. “I thought **I** was supposed to make YOU dinner.”

Hux pushed the button for the 5th floor, watching as the lights slowly made its way down to them.

“Ben, your food is abysmal. I’ll cook.”

“Abysmal? Wow. First you try and one-night stand me, THEN you insult my culinary skills. You weren’t complaining when you were scarfing down those mozzarella sticks the other night.”

“That’s because you didn’t actually _cook_ them. Like, there was no real preparation involved. You just took them out of the box and put them in the oven.”

“Same difference.”

“No it’s not.”

“Well you know WHY I can’t cook? When I was 15, I literally almost burnt our kitchen down. I was —“

Hux put his finger to Ben’s lips, shushing him. “Save it for when we get home. Right now, I can think of a better way for you to use your lips.”

The elevator pinged, and the door opened. They stepped inside, Ben grinning as he pushed the button and asked, “Oh, yeah? How?”

Hux’s arms were pulling him close before the doors fully shut behind them, and Ben got his answer.

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this while self-isolated. Figured why not write a Kylux story set in today’s pandemic and quarantine world. Two roommates trapped together in their apartment, what could be better? Also called it “the FLU” because I’m not creative with names and didn’t want to use the actual name. Everyone stay safe out there ❤️


End file.
